Saturday, May 19, 2007

Return to the Wastes

I first played the Fallout series four years after it first hit shelves in 1997. Between the first two, I've spent more time in post-apocalyptic American wastes than I have in any other video game world. By the time I found Fallout Tactics (bootlegged copy, god forbid I find it for sale here in B.F.E.) I was hopelessly addicted. Like countless fans before me, I can only wait for the heretofore rumored addition to the series as I played the first three games again and again.

Two paragraphs was all Game Informer gave this title. Two small paragraphs off to the right side of the page, and I was stammering like an idiot, reading and re-reading, convinced my dreams of Fallout 3 had at long last become hallucination. Luckily for all of us, these two humble paragraphs remained, the first heralds of the return to the end of the world.

At last, from the arms of oblivion the beloved title hath been saved. The official website is up, with still images of the game in question. In 17 days, we will have a teaser, and after that: who knows? Does it matter?

Fallout is back.

* * *

Update...

Watching the days count down to the teaser. Though my days are (slightly) more productive, the steadily disappearing days are reminiscent of the game that started it all with a failing water chip and 150 days to find a replacement. Tho not the best game of all time (controls are a little awkward to figure out and the strict turn-based battle sequences might bewilder any gamer without sufficient D&D experience), the original does deserve honorable mention for first exposing us to the Vault Dweller and his (or her) world of survival in the face of nuclear oblivion.

Fallout was an incredible beginning for this series, but the game did need work. Luckily, the company producing the game, Black Isle, proved more than worthy of the task when they released the sequel.

Fallout 2 was the beginning of group control in this series. While the original Fallout had a handful of NPCs that would follow you around and fight alongside you, their AI was not the brightest (Ian's uncanny ability to shoot the main character as often as the enemy is the stuff of legend) and the player's options for interaction and group customization were practically nil (leading to classically frustrating moments of being trapped in a room by your own comrade, or watching your entire team charge an automatic turret armed only with knives). Now, while Fallout 2 remains a strongly main-character oriented game, at least now you had some say in how you were covered.

Further changes include an even more developed story (even when compared to its elaborate, multi-faceted predecessor) the addition of The Car (or Highwayman, if you prefer, arguably the bast thing to happen to the Fallout series) and an even greater emphasis on player-NPC interaction, so that every choice you make will come back to bite or reward you later on. Given that this meant the game could rarely be played the same way twice, this gave Fallout 2 loads of replay value.

One feature that did not change was the turn-based battle sequence, which by this point made very little difference to fans of the original.

Then came Tactics.

Fallout: Tactics was, in many ways, the shining final moments of Black Isle. Group control and strategy became the order of the day, with a slight sacrifice (or to be more accurate, a rethinking of) a decision-controlled story. Where once your karmic bonus and speech skill could get you far and help you to conserve ammo, Tactics saw the need for player-NPC interaction all but eliminated, prompting the player to instead rely heavily on the skills and abilities of their massive pool of teammates. To fans of the original two games, this change was bittersweet, as NPC interactions had been most of the driving force behind the colorful, expansive story. On the other hand, being able to individually guide the strategy of each character meant a more efficient and versatile fighting force (extremely important, especially in the face of even greater improved AI). Further, having each individual teammate just as capable as the player gave Tactics the ability to produce a multiplayer option, another first for the series.

Tactics also saw a drastic reworking of turn-based battle, its most dynamic change from the original series. Now, while turns took place on both sides (player and AI), the decisions and actions made during said turns happened simultaneously, with turns changing automatically. The result was smooth, fluid, action-driven gameplay across the board. For this reason above all others, Fallout: Tactics spoke of a glorious future for the post-apocalypse. Even when Black Isle disintegrated, the devoted fans could still turn their eyes to Van Buren (the fan-made Fallout project) and see that, yes, this change to turn-based battle would live on, even as the style of the originals returned to its proper place.

The Fallout series has come a long ways from its humble beginnings. Its name has become synonymous with the post-apocalypse genre (sadly underrated and underused, admittedly). It has spawned countless fan-made offshoots, from Fallout: Yurop to Apocalypse Quest. In-game references have run the gambit from Amelia Earhart to Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy to They Live. Best of all, the series has established a precedent for being able and willing to improve upon itself with each additional installment. It is this fact, above all others, that I hold in my mind as I watch the days count down to zero, watch time tick away to the greatest gaming secret in my lifetime.

Friday, May 04, 2007

Slopping Hogs (or Boozing Pigs)

I'm out early this morning with Irish and my girlfriend, early being a euphemism for "we weren't feeling tired yet". Took the wretched little car down to Smith's to pick up some Hornsby's. (My darling had an awful thirst for hard cider, made worse by the current living situation or lack thereof.)

The night had been fine until this quiet adventure; we had a place to sleep (out in Bigfork), we'd been fed, and, having acquired our amber prize, we were slipping south under the blinking orange stoplights of Main. As I said, the night had been fine, at least before I spot the black and white pulling a very obvious U-turn in the rearview.

I was off and parked on a side-road, lights off, even before the po-po started flashing. No dice- they pulled up right behind, and while I was digging out my insurance card, the first little piggy is pounding on my passenger-side window (spooked Irish) telling everyone in the car to keep their hands on their knees, where they could be easily seen.

Second little piggy sidles up to my window, makin' nice. Asks where we've come from (Bigfork) and where we're going (also Bigfork). Asks if I've had anything to drink (nosir). Asks if I know why I've been stopped (nosir).

Apparently I was going ten miles over the speed limit, doing 35 in a 25. I have to take his word for this, seeing as how the wretched wretched little car has no working speedometer. Mr. Good-Cop calls attention to the Hornsby's (unopened) still in the back, asks if anyone in the car has had anything to drink. (While all this is going on, Mr. Bad-Cop has pulled Irish and my girlfriend's IDs. He has seen that Irish is not quite twenty years old.)

The second little piggy zeroes in on Irish. "Have you had anything to drink tonight?" As soon as Irish hesitates, I know we're boned. "...Nosir." Cop hears it too, asks if he's lying, asks if he's had anything to drink. Irish admits he's had a little.

Irish gets pulled, has to go around back and talk to both little piggies and breathe into a tube while my girlfriend and I wait. After a moment or so, Good-Cop sidles up to my window again, asks my girlfriend to hand him the Hornsby's. Once he has the drinks in hand, he informs me that he "cannot allow a minor, especially one who's been drinking, to travel in a car containing alcohol."

He is very knowing, this shifty-eyed piggy. His words, the words themselves, betray nothing, while his twitchy smile and the tone of his voice make an ultimatum of his neutral statement. He says "I'll be taking this" and "Do you understand?". I nod "yesir" and we trade, the drinks for Irish.

They interrogate him for several more minutes while I fume. When he comes back, the piggies flank us one more time. Good-Cop tells us that he's cut us two big breaks, seeing as how we were speeding and how Irish didn't pass his test. He reminds us what a big favor they're cutting us. Then, right after he tells us we can go, he picks up the Hornsby's. "Now it's time for our break" he says. Big laugh from the piggies.

We drive back to Bigfork. I fume. Not the first time I dealt with dirty cops. Certainly won't be the last. Kalispell has more than enough.